Cerca:its not over

Undun is the story of a man, Redford Stevens, dying in reverse, rewinding from the moment he became a statistic and hitting the points in his life where he's at his most self-aware. That he's a criminal who got caught up in the familiar street-hustle trappings that the modern media's documented countless times is a pivotal detail-- it's hit at an angle that seems to emphasize the futile inevitability of it all. His life could be any number of misdirected narratives that ends with a toe tag, and what details listeners learn about him are hazy, buried under archetypal turns of fate and decisive struggles. That this protagonist is a fictionalized composite of a handful of real people, filtered through a matter-of-fact narrative that splits character ambivalence with journalistic impartiality, only makes his lack of direction and the failure of any real closure stand out even more. "Lotta niggas go to prison," Dice Raw states on "Tip the Scale", "how many come out Malcolm X?"

So the Roots' latest album isn't a sprawling, rise-and-fall crime story, not a condemnation or a veneration of a man living outside the law, not a bullet-riddled grand guignol heavy on explicit details of soldiers getting cut down. It's a character study of a man whose existential crisis ends only with his death-- a death gone largely unspecified, the glamor and tragedy washed over with a doomed resignation. That's a hard thing to pull off, even for a band as given to deep-thinking concepts as the Roots are. And when your main lyrical catalyst is Black Thought-- a man more given to allusions than direct statements-- it's likely that it'll take a while for the full scope of Undun to really sink in.

If and when it does, it might strike listeners as a bit skeletal: omit the mood-setting instrumental bookends, including a brief, four-part orchestral suite that builds off Sufjan Stevens' "Redford (For Yia-Yia and Pappou)", and you've got maybe a half hour's worth of material. By ?uestlove's accounts, writing Redford's story introduced the headaches and challenges that come with scriptwriting into their songwriting, and what's left on Undun is the end result of frequent revisions and rewrites that attempt to reconcile character, theme, and continuity. If it comes at the expense of nuance, it's not always obvious: There's an easy-to-trace narrative line from Redford's acceptance of his fate ("Sleep") to his acknowledgement of how close it's approaching ("Make My"), back through declarations of aggravated toughness ("One Time"), and celebratory fatalism ("Kool On"), along ups and downs that juxtapose motivation ("Stomp") and helplessness ("Lighthouse"). When the vocal portion of the album ends with two of the bleakest sets of verses in the Roots discography, peaking with the estrangement of "I Remember" and the desperation of "Tip the Scale", Undun reveals itself as a story where a man's actual death isn't quite as tragic as the circumstances that pushed him to it.

As Nathan Fake rises from the nocturnal subterranea and rave catharsis of his previous records, on Evaporator, he resurfaces into the domain of daylight, bringing a tangible sense of air rushing against your face, of big skies, and endless landscapes. The idea of pop accessibility that trickled into 2023’s Crystal Vision is refracted here through the prism of sweeping ambient, deep electronica, and trance uplift. Evaporator is Fake’s idea of “airy daytime music”, with each track a different barometer reading across the album’s varying atmospheres, which range from vibrant sunbursts, bracing rainscapes, and fine mists of clement melodics. “It’s not overtly confrontational electronic club music,” states Fake. “It’s quite pleasant, it’s accessible. As I was progressing through making the tracklist, I called it a daytime album. It doesn’t feel like an afterparty album.” For the past decade Fake has been gingerly introducing collaborations with heroes and friends alike into his lone, idiosyncratic working process. Border Community alumni Dextro AKA Ewan Mackenzie transmutes his ferocious drumming for Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs into the blurred choral thump of ‘Baltasound’. ‘Orbiting Meadows’, meanwhile, is his second collaboration with Clark, an eerily idyllic duet where microtonal 18EDO piano clangs slowly twirl around wailing pads. Evaporator marks the junction point of old technology and ever fresh creativity for Nathan. The trusty “dinosaur” age software, particularly Cubase VST5, that has powered two decades of music is rarely updated. “I used to sort of feel a bit ashamed of using such old software, and then I kind of had an epiphany – that’s just how I work”, comments Fake. “That’s just how I play. I’m very fond of these old tools, and I get the most joy out of them, but now I’ve incorporated new technology too.” When an artist accumulates so much synergy with their instrument, music making becomes instinctual. By Fake’s account, much of Evaporator just fell into place. The album title arrived randomly in his head (“it felt completely perfect. Airy.”), ideas looped and developed until things locked into place and just felt right. ‘The Ice House’ is a fleeting glimpse of the sonic world he taps into in this creative state, its glassy FM synths built around a counterpoint between rough-hewn crystalline arpeggios and sparse yet gravitas-bearing bass. “That riff I just wrote out on the keyboard, I just played it forever and ever and ever. The original track ended up being really short. Here you go, and it’s gone!” These unplanned channellings of sound call forth records from Fake’s past while he looks ahead, perhaps getting at the very essence of his musicianship. The opener ‘Aiwa’ (“the breeziest,” he muses) reminds of the introspection that characterised Providence, excited by the fire and grit of Steam Days’ textural experiments, its chunky slams and clatters surging into a flood of harmonic buzzing as they reach out for old wisdom. ‘Hypercube’ stampedes in a similar chronological confluence, infusing an incessant synth line reminiscent of the golden age of rave with the crackling, ecstatic energy of modern festival anthems. Like the vaporisation of liquid to particles, everything that Evaporator presents has a mutant desire to be amorphous. Sounds rarely settle; the irradiated garage beat of ‘Bialystok’ is pitched downwards to driving, rebounding effect, while ‘You’ll Find a Way’ warps static into shivering energy, cinematic synth strings building anticipation into a gradual gush of chords. This translates into a more expansive stereo field than Fake has explored before. ‘Slow Yamaha’ saves the wildest, most kinetic transformations for last with a cornucopia of crispy melodies and fried drums; a sibilance of cymbals on the left, a susurrus of shakers on the right, and kaleidoscopic lasers pulsing and fizzing all around. Evaporation culminating in pure excited atoms. In a world where music has increasingly become background content, making albums remains lifeblood for Fake: “It makes me realise how long; twenty years is ages! It’s weird to see how much the world has changed. Release day back then you did fuck all, now you spend all day on socials. When I grew up the people who made the electronic music I was into were quite mysterious, and the artwork was very abstract. There was a massive distance between you and that music, and that was a key part of it, really. Now it helps to be an extrovert, and I'm just not, but the album marks the first time my face has graced the cover art. I’ve never wanted to do this before, I'm very shy, and generally I don’t like being seen,” he professes. “But, twenty years in, I supposed I could try something new. I'm very lucky that I'm somehow surviving in this world, where the media world favours extroverts and interesting looking people. It’s not my world but somehow I’m still in it.” Evaporator continues to prove Nathan’s necessary presence, with some of his most engaging, varied, and magical music yet.

The first resonant space Zosha Warpeha played in was the Emanuel Vigeland Museum in Oslo, Norway. Built as a mausoleum, its walls reach up into a gradual archway, creating an environment where sound expands and reverberates for twelve seconds before decaying into silence. Warpeha was greeted only by dim lights when she entered, and it wasn’t until she had spent several minutes listening that she was able to make out the frescoes that covered every inch of the room: graphic depictions of the cycle of life from conception through death. As the sound of her Hardanger d’amore encountered the walls and these slowly emerging scenes, they obscured its point of origin in both time and space, augmenting its own life cycle. The experience sat in the back of her mind over the next several years as she developed her own patient style of composition and performance, one that comes into full bloom on her new album I grow accustomed to the dark.

When Warpeha was selected as an artist in residence at Brooklyn’s ISSUE Project Room in 2025, she saw it as an opportunity to more intentionally explore how her music might fill a room with ample natural reverb. I grow accustomed to the dark documents two single-take solo performances for Hardanger d’amore and voice at IPR, with both pieces composed in a unique tuning system developed to interact with the space itself. Listeners can trace resonance from the contact of the bow on gut strings into the body of the instrument, its five sympathetic strings offering another layer of refraction, before the sound is thrown about the cavity of the room. The echoes emerge like a photographic double exposure, or wisps of smoke that linger in the air, creating ghostly harmonic convergences that blur the line between what is there and not-there. Sound begins to act like light, a synesthetic alchemy that transforms drones into beams and ornamental trills into flickers.

Both side-long compositions, “filament” and “visual purple,” exemplify a duality that animates Warpeha’s music: an expressive, individualistic style that draws on extensive knowledge of her instrument’s history in folk traditions, and an austere, devotional quality maintained by focus and precision. Though very different in character and structure, both pieces evolve slowly through numerous repetitive phrases, passages of stillness, and bursts of intensity. “filament” opens with a cycle of delicate melodic fragments played and sung around a drone before blossoming into an outpouring of swooping arpeggios, harmonics flying from the strings like sparks off a bonfire. The disorienting pulsation of harmonic beating forms the core of “visual purple,” the close-tone dissonance building to a swarm of open strings ringing boldly throughout the space. After the knotty tones reach their climax, the piece collapses into studied quietude, hushed, but without any drop in intensity.

When Warpeha first visited the Vigeland Museum in 2019, she was in Oslo to deepen her relationship to the Hardanger fiddle through the study of Norwegian traditional music, which is primarily passed down aurally. The experience of learning songs by ear, not only internalizing the tune but also absorbing the techniques and tonalities by listening, was a crucial step in her development as a composer. The years since have seen her sharpen those skills as a prolific member of the New York avant-garde and improvised music communities. Warpeha’s music encourages listeners to join her in this journey, to listen closely with each repeated phrase and through each dramatic shift. Like the frescoes on Vigeland’s walls, with time and intention, the depth of I grow accustomed to the dark comes on like a revelation.

Brendan Eder follows up minimalist 70s-jazz concept with new ambient-classical album, THERAPY. Brendan Eder is a Los Angeles composer and drummer best-known for his eponymous genre-bending ensemble of woodwinds, drumset, and bass; as well as his film scoring work, most notably on four short films for director Ari Aster. On March 3, 2023 Eder released his third album, THERAPY, a collection of meditative woodwind arrangements recorded primarily at Church of the Good Shepherd in Arcadia, California.

The quest for THERAPY came during a period of deep spiritual curiosity. Eder was avidly watching testimonies of near death experience survivors (NDEs), pouring over books of Theosophical artwork and philosophy, and
processing experiences of grief, uncertainty and spirituality.

Eder wanted to explore the threshold between the spiritual and physical dimensions, and create music that could evoke its shape and texture — a theme further illustrated in the original album artwork and single covers by Adam Rabinowitz. Eder felt he must be on to something when, on a whim, he looked up the tempo of a piece he was calling “137 Riddle.” Turned out to be “the most important number in the world” in theoretical physics, as well as a provocative number in Jewish mysticism.

Since 2020, Eder's cover of Aphex Twin's “#20 (Lichen)” has garnered over two million streams. Appropriately, THERAPY delivers two new Aphex Twin arrangements alongside eight original pieces.

Maintaining his track record of recording the best musicians Eder can find, THERAPY features special guests Nailah Hunter (harp), Henry Solomon (saxophone), and Ethan Haman on The Newberry Memorial Organ at Yale University.

Mixed by Simon Lam (Kllo, Armlock) and mastered by Grammy-nominated engineer Andrei Eremin, the album features collaborations with British talent including rising spoken-word artist Emmeline, Mancunian ambient producer Frameworks, and Nattica from Fickle Friends on the single 'Oh My'. Speaking on the album, Fractures says: "There's no overarching theme to this album, not lyrically anyway. It's cobbled together like short diary entries of someone journeying through a sort of middling stasis in their life, a time of nothing particularly noteworthy, and that in itself provokes deeper and maybe darker introspection.

I didn't feel like needlessly plugging holes with lyrics, just light dabs here and there, light and shade to complete the visual I pictured in my head. The through line of the album is more within the sonic palette. There's a murkiness, a sort of dust in the audio that is cast over every song. Noth

ESCAPE-ISM — the found-sound dreamdrama— are back in action & out in front. And this time, they’re leading a “Charge of the Love Brigade. ”This “charge” isn’t the traditional scramble across a muddy, bloody field though, like in the days of yore. This one is a furtive insinuation into the senses of the tuned-in listener.
Their fifth record, and fourth “sound” record — (the third one was “A Protest Against Sound”- an entirely silent LP) — “Charge of the Love Brigade” is revolutionary in its own right. Besides being packed with tunes — super-hits such as “Black Gold,” “Last Of The Sellouts,” “The Rebel Outlaw,” & “Fire in Malibu,” for exam- ple, Charge of the Love Brigade proposes a reformation of the traditional notes and scales; an entire new sound alphabet!
That’s right, ESCAPE-ISM —the “act of musical vandalism”— famous for their development of new prototypes for stomping & smashing, are reforming the scales, chords, & notes (e.g. A, B, F#, etc) that comprise musical literacy to achieve the group’s primary aim: the repurposing of music as we know it. Though many musicians of note have operated their instruments with "alternative tunings," up until now no one has obliterated tuning absolutely or abolished letter-notes for the destruction of bourgeois society.
According to ESCAPE-ISM, this will have a very profound effect: “Music will no longer be cordoned off from the rest of experience as a commodified, specialty freak show, but instead be a pastime which can be prac- ticed and enjoyed –not only by non-musicians and amateurs– but also by plant life, wild animals, and even inanimate objects such as rocks.
“The violent overthrow of musical conventions will lead to the reintegration of humanity into the natural order, the reordering of life itself into a cosmic congruity. This means the convention of time itself will be ended.” Like so-called nature itself, the ESCAPE-ISM group is also on a “loop.”
Play “Charge of the Love Brigade” and listen as ESCAPE-ISM go “over the top” against the note-letters of accepted musicality in a world premiere of a new upside-down antiscale.

Chalybeate documents a month long stay by Tokyo based producer aus in Ikaho, one of Japan's most established Onsen (hot spring) towns, during autumn 2024.

Working from field-recordings captured inside multiple ryokan baths, aus synthesized the subterranean movement of the onsen's with local details: the bubbling of source water, the hoozuki lantern plants and wind chimes placed at each inn, and the surrounding insects and birds. Rather than portraying Ikaho as a landscape, the recordings trace the town's respiration.

The material was first presented on site as an installation unfolding across eight different baths, where visitors listened while soaking in roten-buro (open air hot baths). The project drew wide attention for proposing listening as a bodily act, inseparable from heat, moisture, and duration.

Chalybeate re constructs that installation as an album. The recordings were left to sit for a year within Ikaho's air and humidity, allowing the sound itself to slowly change. The title refers to Ikaho's iron rich mineral water, known as "Golden Water," which oxidizes upon contact with air and leaves rust colored traces in its baths. Following this process, the album's sound was repeatedly re submerged and re worked, gradually absorbing a corroded texture.

Tape hiss, gentle distortion, and subtle fluctuations rise quietly, like steam.
What remains is not documentation but residue.

Mixing was handed over to Manchester based producer The Humble Bee by Craig Tattersall, known for his work with The Boats and The Remote Viewer, after aus exhausted himself traversing Ikaho's steep stone steps. The exchange mirrors the work itself: from bathtub to hot spring, from sound to something that surrounds the body.

Woodwind like tape noise and the movement of water dissolve into one another.
The music does not arrive all at once. It settles slowly, as if lowering into warm water.

In 1962, Black Music was making its transition from R&B to soul and the Chicago music industry was exploding, producing thousands of records and dozens of new labels. The two biggest black labels Vee-Jay and Chess led in the creation of the distinctive, smooth, Chicago soul brand with names familiar and not so familiar: the former with Curtis Mayfield and Jerry Butler and the latter with Mitty Collier, Etta James and Billy Stewart. And yet it's the smaller labels that make up the bulk of the Chicago story: Hawk with Geraldine Taylor, Lu-Cee with Roberta, M-Pac with Dorothy Prince and it's here that we explore some of the finest sounds of the era in this collection. Extensive liner notes written by Robert Pruter, author of the acclaimed 'Chicago Soul'. Side One. 1. The Town I Live In - McKinley Mitchell 2. I'm The One Who Loves You - The Impressions 3. Shake A Tail Feather - The Five Du-Tones 4. Mama Didn't Lie - Jan Bradley 5. Make It Easy On Yourself - Jerry Butler 6. Seven Day Fool - Etta James 7. The Blues Don't Like Nobody - Tony Adams 8. I've Got To Get Away From It All - Mitty Collier 9. How Much Longer - Geraldine Taylor 10. I'm On The Prowl - Roberta. Side Two: 1. Fat Boy - Billy Stewart 2. Can't Take No More - Ted Taylor 3. I Don't Want To Suffer - Walter Jackson 4. Open Your Heart - Sugar Pie DeSanto 5. Shook Up Over You - Dee Clark 6. Something's Got A Hold On Me - Etta James 7. Why Not Tonight - Dorothy Prince 8. Delilah - Major Lance 9. Money In My Pocket - Moss Tolbert

With »News from Planet Zombie«, The Notwist return to view after years of exploration and experiment with an album rich in both melancholy and positivity, sketched across a suite of thrilling, fiercely committed pop songs. It’s an album reflecting a chaotic world, but responding with warmth and generosity, to achieve creative and spiritual consolidation. Recorded in their home base of Munich, it reconnects with the security of the local to explore the troubles of the global: a guiding impulse writ large across this album’s eleven songs. It’s also the first studio album since 1995’s »12« that the entire band recorded together in the studio in its expanded live formation.

A new album by The Notwist is always a curious endeavour; their musical language is as consistent and resilient as the contexts for creativity are unpredictable and ever shifting. For »News from Planet Zombie«, the core trio of Markus and Micha Acher and Cico Beck embraced the plural possibilities of writing together, bringing songs to the collective and then arranging, rehearsing and recording that material live, in the studio.

The result is an album that’s energised, fully in ›the now‹, with spectacular moments where you can hear the magic bubbling up in the dynamic between the Achers, Beck, and fellow members Theresa Loibl, Max Punktezahl, Karl Ivar Refseth, and Andi Haberl. If »Teeth« begins »News from Planet Zombie« quietly and reflectively, by »X-Ray« everyone’s supercharged, blasting out future anthems with the collective energy cranked up high. The chiming keys of »Propeller« skim the instrumental’s surface like stones across burbling water; »The Turning« clangs its way into one of the album’s most heartwarming melodies.

»News from Planet Zombie« was recorded over one week at Import Export, a non-profit space for arts and music. You can tell, too; there are some pleasingly rough edges here, as though The Notwist’s striving for hazy perfection means they’re also confident enough to let the songs breathe and mutate between our ears. That openness to chance also takes in guest turns from friends both local and international, reflective of a cosmopolitan Munich: Enid Valu joins in on vocals, while Haruka Yoshizawa guests on taishōgoto and harmonium, Tianping Christoph Xiao on clarinet, and Mathias Götz on trombone.

The Notwist aren’t best known for cover versions, but »News from Planet Zombie« features two: a gorgeous version of Neil Young’s »Red Sun« (from 2000’s »Silver & Gold«), which the group originally developed for a theatre play directed by Jette Steckel, and a take on Athens, Georgia folk-pop gang Lovers’ »How the Story Ends«. They slot into the album’s narrative perfectly, nestling in like old friends, revealing The Notwist as poetic interpreters. Played well, the cover version is both acknowledgement of fellow travellers and act of generosity, and The Notwist nail both aspects here.

And that narrative, the way the album plays out? »News from Planet Zombie« acknowledges the distress of our current geopolitical impasse, while reminding us there are collective ways forward. Fed through the figure of the zombie, Markus Acher explores our anxieties: »In the title and some lyrics I reference B- and horror-movies, which is a reference to the crazy world at the moment, which seems to be like a really bad and unrealistic B-movie.« But there’s a reminder here not to lose the thread entirely, that these things, too, will pass.

»The river here in Munich I often go to has been there forever and will be there long after us,« Acher reflects, pinpointing an important source of succour for him, »always the same but always changing. Very calming, but also always reminding me that like this river time only flows into one direction and you can’t go back. Every moment is very precious.«

Artwork by Marie Vermont

The Notwist:
Markus Acher: vocals, guitar
Micha Acher: bass, sousaphone, euphonium, trumpet
Cico Beck: electronics, keyboards, guitar, recorder, percussion
Theresa Loibl: bassclarinet, clarinet, piano, harmonium, organ
Max Punktezahl: guitar
Karl Ivar Refseth: marimbaphone, vibraphone, glockenspiel, congas, percussion
Andi Haberl: drums, dulcimer
+
Enid Valu: vocals on 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 7, 9, 10, 11
Haruka Yoshizawa: taishōgoto on 6, harmonium on 9, 10, 11
Tianping Christoph Xiao: clarinet on 4, 10, 11
Mathias Götz: trombone on 4, 10, 11

Solid Ball of Rock is the tenth studio album by legendary heavy metal band Saxon and was originally released in 1991. Five of its eleven tracks were written by new bassist Nibbs Carter, who co-wrote another three songs.

The addition of young bassist Nibbs Carter seemed to inject new life into the group, which unleashed some of its most aggressive songs in years, including the full-on thrashing "Altar of the Gods" and positively scorching "Baptism of Fire."

"For our audience – and without an audience there is no band – our focus returned on Solid Ball of Rock…" noted singer Biff Byford. "Since then, we've been right on it."

Solid Ball of Rock is available as a limited edition of 1000 individually numbered copies on silver vinyl and includes an insert.

The Golden Age of southern soul lasted from about 1962 to 1975, when disco ripped the heart out of it. And although it may seem as though the blend of country, gospel and R & B that emerged from the great studios in Memphis and Muscle Shoals in that decade was entirely fresh and new, like any other genre classic, southern soul picked up musical cues and absorbed influences from a whole variety of sources: horn lines from Louisiana's swamp pop, lyrical themes from the blues, songs from country music, and of course so, so much from the black churches. Part of the 'History of Soul' series, this LP reveals the musical antecedents that gave southern soul its inspiration. The music here will tell you the real story - and it will knock your socks off too! Notes by John Ridley.

A journey into the raw and visceral origins: from the demo sessions mixed by Steve Albini to the night of the very first secret show on December 20th, 1988. In the heart of Chicago, Geordie and Martin Atkins turned frustration and distance into pure creative energy, recording the now-legendary "Black Cassette" demos at Albini"s house. Distorted, menacing bass lines, unruly oscillators, and Albini running endlessly up and down the stairs between the basement drum room and the pantry control room defined a sound that was brutally direct and uncompromising. The first interactions with the Yamaha drum machine foreshadowed elements that would later shape parts of the album. Those sessions sparked essential ideas, while the future studio - purchased from Steve and moved to Wabash Ave - would soon become the core of Invisible Records and Killing Joke"s operations. On the other side, a truly rare document: excerpts from Atkins"s very first show with the band, at Burberries in Birmingham on December 20th, 1988. In a small, mirror-lined club filled with tension, adrenaline, and inevitable collisions with the walls, Extremities, The Fanatic, Intravenous, and The Beautiful Dead were performed publicly for the first time. It was the night when everything ignited: the blast beat still in its embryonic stage, the controlled fury Geordie demanded - "can you go a bit more Moonie on it?" - and above all Jaz"s theatrical yet strikingly genuine laughter. Not just joy, but a declaration: a giant "fuck off" to the doubters and a prelude of what was about to come. A raw, essential, indispensable testimony: the birth of an era.

A journey into the raw and visceral origins: from the demo sessions mixed by Steve Albini to the night of the very first secret show on December 20th, 1988. In the heart of Chicago, Geordie and Martin Atkins turned frustration and distance into pure creative energy, recording the now-legendary "Black Cassette" demos at Albini"s house. Distorted, menacing bass lines, unruly oscillators, and Albini running endlessly up and down the stairs between the basement drum room and the pantry control room defined a sound that was brutally direct and uncompromising. The first interactions with the Yamaha drum machine foreshadowed elements that would later shape parts of the album. Those sessions sparked essential ideas, while the future studio - purchased from Steve and moved to Wabash Ave - would soon become the core of Invisible Records and Killing Joke"s operations. On the other side, a truly rare document: excerpts from Atkins"s very first show with the band, at Burberries in Birmingham on December 20th, 1988. In a small, mirror-lined club filled with tension, adrenaline, and inevitable collisions with the walls, Extremities, The Fanatic, Intravenous, and The Beautiful Dead were performed publicly for the first time. It was the night when everything ignited: the blast beat still in its embryonic stage, the controlled fury Geordie demanded - "can you go a bit more Moonie on it?" - and above all Jaz"s theatrical yet strikingly genuine laughter. Not just joy, but a declaration: a giant "fuck off" to the doubters and a prelude of what was about to come. A raw, essential, indispensable testimony: the birth of an era.

For here lies one of the most influential bands in the realm of gothic metal, a group with doom and death metal roots that has flourished for over three decades, boasting thirteen albums that have garnered devoted acclaim. This injustice is now being set right by The Circle Music , beginning with the vinyl release of the classic album "Burning: A Wish", which emerged twenty-four years ago. "Burning: A Wish", released in the twilight of the year 2001, stands as a dark reliquary of dreams lost to the velvet fog of melancholy. To revisit it now, two dozen years later, is to unseal a time capsule of gothic ache, doom- laced longing, and the tormented tenderness that only Lacrimas Profundere could conjure at their creative height. It was a candle-lit corridor between worlds. A slow fall into velvet shadows. A scream muffled by rain.

By the time "Burning: A Wish" was released, Lacrimas Profundere had already begun to evolve from their early death- doom origins, shaping their identity with the sophistication of seasoned mourners. The death growls had receded, replaced by the haunted, baritone croon of Christopher Schmid, whose voice is an echo from a chapel ruined by time. Yet, while the growls faded, the emotional gravitas remained intact, transmuted into melody, into baroque gloom, into something more sorrowfully refined. Produced with lush, theatrical clarity, the album never drowns in its own atmosphere, it breathes with it, moves with it. The soundscape is dominated by somber guitar textures, languid tempos, and subtle orchestral touches. From the very first notes, it is clear that this is music for ruined lovers and moon-drenched graveyards.

This is the hallmark of Lacrimas Profundere 's style: an emotional minimalism that does not explain or elaborate, but merely opens wounds and lets them breathe. That this album has remained, until now, absent from the warm embrace of vinyl is both tragic and oddly poetic. For what format better suits a record such as this than the one that cracks and hisses like an old seance? Vinyl is tactile, intimate. It requires attention, reverence. To place Burning: A Wish on a turntable is to light a candle in the dark.

WRWTFWW Records is delighted to announce the first-ever vinyl release of Art Form I, the overlooked 1997 compilation from Tokyo’s cult imprint FORM@ RECORDS, now available as a limited edition double LP housed in a heavyweight sleeve as part of the ongoing collaborative series between the Swiss and Japanese labels.
Originally issued only on CD, Art Form I is a fascinating deep dive into the rich and singular world of late ’90s Tokyo electronic music—an inspired collection of timeless IDM, techno, ambient, and electronica experiments. Showcasing a roster of visionary underground artists including fan-favorite Virgo (Landform Code, Remnants), the compilation maps the innovative spirit of the era: emotional machine music, intricate rhythmic architecture, mind-expanding textures, and the soulful heart that serves as the solid foundation of everything FORM@ RECORDS.
Art Form I reminds of the pioneering explorations from Warp’s Artificial Intelligence series, B12, The Black Dog, Ken Ishii, and early Carl Craig, all while maintaining its own distinctive local identity. This long-awaited vinyl edition offers listeners a fully immersive rediscovery of a pivotal moment in underground music.
Following the acclaimed reissues of Virgo’s Landform Code (1998) and Remnants (1999), the simultaneous releases of Art Form I and Art Form 2 (1998) continue the archival collaboration between WRWTFWW Records and FORM@ RECORDS, with a forthcoming vinyl edition of remix collection Re-Form Ver-1.0 (1999) to follow.

James Ruskin's Blueprint Records continues its 30-year celebrations with a new EP by Kr!z who returns with his fourth EP for the label. Kr!z made his Blueprint debut in fine style with his "Neutrino EP" in 2022 and went on to deliver the "Revelation EP" in 2023 and "Horo EP" in 2024 so it's fitting that he's back to join in this landmark label anniversary.

Kr!z has been at the forefront of techno for more than a decade. Influenced by the hypnotic and energetic sound helmed by veterans such as Jeff Mills, Steve Rachmad and James Ruskin, he gradually but steadily developed his own identity in the international techno scene.

After making a name for himself as a skilled DJ with sharp focus and a quick mixing style in home country Belgium and the Netherlands, Kr!z launched Token Records in 2007. It has since been a leading outlet for heady, purist sounds. He rapidly established the label as a fixed value with a timeless and powerful sound and took it around the world with label nights on every continent. Token remains important in defining techno today - always straightforward, sometimes weird, often catchy - all under the helm of Kr!z as avid A&R.

After 12 years spent assiduously focused on curating the Token discography, showcasing artists he has nurtured and supported over this time, and incorporating the connoisseur's knowledge and experience he has cultivated in his work as a DJ, in 2019 he released his own debut EP "Mantra" on the label, earning high acclaim from both media and key DJs. Since then, he has continued to develop a strong body of work, regularly releasing on the influential Blueprint Records and SK_eleven alongside his own Token imprint, and producing aseries of notable remixes. This steady output has established him as a key figure within the techno landscape, recognized for both consistency and artistic depth.

Kr!z's latest Blueprint EP "Footprints" is released 13th March on vinyl and digitally.

Emerging artist Beifer presents his highly anticipated debut album "constant.transition": an eclectic fusion of electronic music with strong influences from dubstep, garage and drum&bass, enriched with captivating jazz elements. This cross-genre work takes listeners on a journey through dark atmospheres and avant-garde soundscapes, brought to life by the artist's complex percussion layers and interesting chord structures.
With great experimentation and a desire to break new ground in electronic music, Beifer has created an album that captures the listener's attention with its unique textures and unconventional soundscapes. Each track is an exploration of musical possibilities, with Beifer masterfully blending a wide variety of genres while creating a cohesive and infectious atmosphere.

The album also features notable collaborations with renowned musicians. Wanja Slavin, Moritz Stahl (Ark Noir/Lyder) and vocalist Enji have collaborated with Beifer to add an additional dynamic and layered dimension to the album. Their unique talents and empathy blend seamlessly with Beifer's vision, opening up new worlds of sound for the listener. Beifer has managed to push the boundaries of electronic music and make an impressive artistic statement with his debut album.

"constant.transition" is the first release on the newly founded tunnel.visions label. Starting as a event-series, the three members of the electronic alternative experimental jazz band Ark Noir have made it their mission to present progressive, contemporary music that includes acoustic and electronic instruments, takes up compositional and improvisational concepts and thus breaks down the boundaries between academic and autodidactic practice.
Over the past year, Ark Noir has featured Beifer several times at concerts and brought the music of "constant.transition" to the stage with live instrumentation. The program was enthusiastically received by the audience.

Repress on black vinyl. Jalamanta was a life changing record for me. Its the record that launched my journey as Brant Bjork. Listening to the tapes 20 years later was amazing. Tony Mason and myself were transported back to that moment in time. Jalamanta was a first for both Tony and myself. My first record as a solo artist and his first record as an engineer. We didnt think twice about re-mixing it. With our combined experience over the years, we knew we could take Jalamanta to the place we always wanted it to go..and we did. Dig it. BB

Repress on babyblue vinyl. Limited to 300 copies. Jalamanta was a life changing record for me. Its the record that launched my journey as Brant Bjork. Listening to the tapes 20 years later was amazing. Tony Mason and myself were transported back to that moment in time. Jalamanta was a first for both Tony and myself. My first record as a solo artist and his first record as an engineer. We didnt think twice about re-mixing it. With our combined experience over the years, we knew we could take Jalamanta to the place we always wanted it to go..and we did. Dig it. BB

Julius Hemphill's debut record, 1972's Dogon A.D., was self-produced for his Mbari imprint, and it was issued with a beautiful black-and-white cover. Very DIY. The label's name writ large along the bottom edge, like it was the band's name. It's a quartet record featuring Hemphill on alto and flute, with Baikida Carroll on trumpet, Abdul Wadud on cello, and Phillip Wilson on drums – a classic jazz front line/rhythm section format, but nothing conventional about the way the music sounds.

The long track – from where the LP takes its title – is one of the key epic statements of new jazz in the era. Among its remarkable distinctions, it manages to draw on Wilson's schizoid experience having been a member of the Paul Butterfield Blues Band and the first drummer for the Art Ensemble of Chicago, in making an 11/8 rhythm into a staggeringly funky thing of joy. Over the course of fourteen and a half minutes, Hemphill builds a nearly continuous solo, his spiritual blood brother Wadud sawing the cello with a deep blues soulfulness that is raw and mantra-like in its repetitive incantation. It feels right and wrong in equal measure, the theme carrying its own piquancy with honked barnyard dissonances and some contrary motion between the horns and string. Most of all, it takes its own sweet time, in no hurry to get anywhere in particular, but out for a righteous stroll. – John Corbett (excerpt from the liner notes)